


Trom-laighe

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e14 Wolf in the Fold, Gen, Male Friendship, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Nightmares, Platonic Relationships, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: A dark, foggy night is the perfect hunting grounds for a predator, a predator looking for a specific victim... and Scotty has a very specific victim in mind. He knows McCoy is out here somewhere. He only has to find him.





	

It's dark. Scotty walks alone through the narrow streets, walks quietly as he can on the cobblestone paths. He's looking for something… for someone. A predator. Fog hangs in the air, muffling his footsteps. He's grateful for it. The fog makes his job easier. It's easier to hide. He stalks through the dark, listening carefully. There! Up ahead, he finally sees him.

"Doctor McCoy!"

The man turns, smiles, happy to see Scotty, blue eyes bright in the dark.

"There ya are, Scotty. We've been worried about ya. Usually not good when someone disappears without a word. You feelin' alright?"

"Aye, doctor. Never better."

McCoy comes close, still smiling. He doesn't know. How could he? Scotty just smiles back, holds out a hand to usher McCoy closer as if to lead him away. They start to walk back to the hotel they're staying at with the rest of the crew. It's not far, but it's easy to get lost in the dark and the fog on unfamiliar streets. Scotty knows where he's going.

"Aw, hell. A dead end. I swear, this fog is somethin' el-"

His words cut off with a sharp gasp, blue eyes wide with disbelief. Scotty holds him close. It's easier that way. He's got the knife firmly in McCoy's gut. Fine, shaking hands come up to grip his shoulders. There's hurt in McCoy's eyes: hurt, betrayal, pain. Scotty simply holds him by the nape of his neck, cradling the back of his head gingerly. It's perfect. He drags the knife up towards the doctor's sternum. Fingers tighten on Scotty's shoulders. Blood paints McCoy's lips and chin.

McCoy slumps forward into Scotty's chest, but Scotty steps back, letting him simply fall to the ground. It feels good. He feels good as he looks down into the pale, blank eyes.

He feels good until he doesn't. The world takes a horrific 180, and Scotty is slapped with reality. He just killed McCoy in cold blood. The villain is supposed to be gone, shot into the empty vacuum of space, but no. Scotty is still a monster, a murderer, and now he's killed one of his friends. He drops to his knees, shaking McCoy, begging him to wake up, praying this isn't real.

Hands shoot up to grab Scotty's shirt. He screams. This cannot be real.

"Wake up!"

He's in his quarters, but he doesn't know how. It's dark, and he's disoriented, flailing against whoever's trying to touch him.

"Scotty, stop-! Dammit, man, would you just- _shit!_ Quit strugglin'!"

Someone captures his wrists in a firm grip and pins them down, and Scotty forces himself to calm and assess what's happening. Blinking in the dim light, he looks around. Yes, these are his quarters. He was just asleep, or so he thinks. He looks up to see who's holding his wrists. McCoy stands over him, blood trickling from his lips and down his chin. No. Scotty tenses, tries to jerk away, but McCoy is firm.

"Goddammit, would ya stay still, Scotty?" McCoy explains, "Because I swear to God, if you hit me in the face again, I'll invent ways to make ya regret it!"

His voice is firm and angry, and it snaps Scotty out of his reverie. McCoy isn't in his uniform, like Scotty is simply in his black t-shirt and sleep pants. But why is he here?

"Alright, that's better. You gave me quite a scare, Mr. Scott. I got a medical alert that your heart was beatin' faster'n a jackrabbit's, had signs of major emotional and physical distress… an' Jesus, the way ya screamed just now… what happened, Scotty?"

"I-I can't-! Horrible-! Please, McCoy-"

"Hey now, you're alright. I'm alright," McCoy says, voice now soft, "You clearly had a doozy of a nightmare and I wish you would-… oh. Is this to do with what happened on Argelius?"

"A-Aye… it was horrible," Scotty chokes, "I-It was like that monster was ba-back inside me, only I-I-I was aware of everything… and I murdered ye, Leonard… In-In cold blood, I murdered-"

He bites back a sob. McCoy makes a quiet sound and helps Scotty sit up, pulling him into an embrace. Scotty buries his face in the man's shoulder, into his neck, lets his weak sobs take over. Exhaustion is heavy in his bones. The affair on Argelius has sat heavy in his mind. This is the first time he's slept in almost three days. McCoy just holds him, shushes him gently, cradles the back of his head. His thin fingers sometimes sweep over Scotty's ear to stroke his cheek, his own cheek resting atop Scotty's dark hair.

"You just hush, darlin'. Everything's alright now. It's all in the past now," he murmurs, "You're okay. Darlin,' we 're all okay… just hush now…"

They stay like that for a long time, McCoy holding Scotty and Scotty leaning in to press close. The warmth is pleasant and comforting and soothing. It calms him somewhat.

"Here, you just lay down and go back to sleep, Scotty. Just go back to sleep-"

"I can't. What if I have another nightmare? I can't see that, not again, I can't-"

"Calm down, Scotty, just breathe-"

"Please don't leave me alone, Leonard."

Use of the other man's given name seems to catch his attention. Eyes the same blue as the warp core look him over.

"I won't leave ya alone, Monty."

Something flutters in Scotty's stomach at the rare nickname. It feels good. McCoy carefully eases him down and sits beside him, stretching out those long legs of his. Scotty presses close, face not quite buried in the bony hip. Gentle fingers skate over his forehead, brush away errant strands, card through his hair, dance along his cheek. It's soothing. He brings his hand up and lets his own fingers rest on McCoy's thigh.

"That's it… You just go to sleep, Monty, darlin'… I'll be here…"

**Author's Note:**

> So, someone gave me some guff for this one on a certain other fanfiction site, and so I'm just really hoping to get some concrit on this please! You can post it here or find me on tumblr and send it there if you'd prefer. Thanks in advance for being awesome, and especially thank you for reading.


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